


The Talk

by Quinny_555



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Parent Martin Whitly, Martin Whitly Being an Asshole, Mr. David is Awesome, Panic Attacks, Teenager Malcolm Bright, The Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_555/pseuds/Quinny_555
Summary: Martin tries to give Malcolm "The Talk". It doesn't go well.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	The Talk

Martin looked up at Malcolm with a warm smile as he stepped into his makeshift cell. He had been waiting for this meeting all week. It was always nice to see his boy. But this visitation was special; Malcolm had recently turned fifteen and Martin figured that it was time to have “The Talk”. He knew that it might be a bit awkward, but it was his duty as a father to impart his knowledge onto his son. 

“My boy,” Martin greeted him fondly.

“Hey, dad,” Malcolm said as he set his school bag down on the floor near Martin’s chair. He sat next to it, leaning against the wall as he pulled out his school work. 

“Actually, I had been planning something a bit different from homework today,” Martin said. Malcolm looked a bit confused, but dutifully put the papers back. 

“So, what were you planning?” Malcolm asked before raising an eyebrow, “Trip to the park?” he snarked. Martin laughed. 

“No, not quite. I thought that since you're getting older and beginning to mature, it’s about time that we have the,” he paused, chuckling, “Well, the talk.” Malcolm stuttered, face turning an endearing shade of red. 

“Well- I-I mean, I don't think that-” he started and Martin tutted. 

“Malcolm, you have to be given the talk at some point. You can't avoid it,” he chided. Malcolm shook his head a bit. 

“No, it's not that- I mean, it’s just-” he shook his head with a sigh, trying to rid himself of his furiously burning cheeks. 

“What? You're usually more mature than this, Malcolm, surely you understand,” he chuckled, “If not me, then who else is going to do it? Surely you can't expect your mother to.” 

“It's not that, but, well, I mean, you see-” Martin felt his irritation well up and he frowned. 

“Spit it out, boy,” he said sternly. Malcolm’s mouth snapped shut for a moment. 

“It’s just that I already got the talk,” he said, looking away. Martin scowled. 

“What?” he demanded, “From whom?” 

“Gil,” Malcolm mumbled, playing with his sweater sleeves. Martin took a deep, calming breath. 

“Excuse me?” he said as dispassionately as possible. Malcolm could hear his rage bubbling just below the surface. “Did you say that  _ Gil Arroyo _ gave you the sex talk?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who exactly does  _ Gil  _ think he is?” Martin growled, digging his nails into the arm of his chair. 

“I don't-” 

“What, has he deluded himself into thinking that he’s some sort of father figure for you? Has he forgotten that you very much  _ have _ a father and that  _ you don't need him? _ ” 

“He just-” 

“He just what? Does he think that he knows better than me? Is that it? Because I can assure you that I know much,  _ much  _ more than him.” His voice rose with every word as he steadily worked himself up. “What, did he cover the basics? How about certain preferences? Did he tell you how to actually satisfy your partner? Because when it comes down to it, everything is about  _ control. _ Did he tell you about how you can make your partner beg for you,  _ scream _ -” 

“Dad!” Malcolm shouted, absolutely mortified. He stumbled to his feet, grabbing his bag. 

“What?” Martin snarled, “You're gonna have to learn it at some point. Why not from your  _ actual _ father?” 

“I already know the basics, dad, I don't need…  _ that _ .” 

“Why? You don't want to be bad in bed, do you? And I can teach you how to be fantastic, you can ask your mo-” 

“No!” Malcolm cut him off, resisting the urge to cover his ears. He banged on the window to be let out. He could hear his father stand, chair skidding backward. 

“Don't you dare walk out that door, Malcolm,” Martin said lowly. The threat was explicitly clear in his tone of voice. Malcolm tensed, breath catching in his throat. 

“I'm leaving,” he managed. The door buzzed and the door opened. 

“MALCOLM MICHEAL WHITLY! COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!” Malcolm froze, eyes going wide. His hand shook and his breath stuttered. His chest felt like it was compressing and he couldn't move. Suddenly Mr. David was there, harshly telling the guard next to the door to shut it and leading Malcolm out the second door. 

The hallway was cold in comparison to his father’s cell. Malcolm leaned against the wall, trying to force air into his stubborn lungs. His thoughts were running wild and there was nothing he could do to stop them.  _ What will happen next time I come back? He was so mad, I'm in so much trouble, I should have just listened, I should have been better, I could have been more mature, what would Gil say, why, why, why, what if he escaped? He was so mad oh no, oh no, oh no, nonononono- _

“Malcolm,” Mr. David said quietly, breaking through his spiraling train of thought. Malcolm’s eyes locked onto his face, which was much closer than he was used to. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” Malcolm wheezed between panicked pants.  _ Oh _ . He was hyperventilating. Mr. David looked like he doubted his answer, but he didn't push. 

“Do you want me to call your mother?” he offered. Malcolm took a shaking breath, glancing in the direction of his father’s cell. Should he go back and apologize? Mr. David put a hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to him. “He won't be allowed visitors for the rest of the day.” 

“Could-” he paused. “Could you call Gil Arroyo instead?” 

Mr. David considered. Jessica  _ did  _ trust Lt. Arroyo. He was the one who picked Malcolm up from visits frequently. The kid looked terrified and he figured it couldn't hurt.

“Sure,” he said, standing. “Wait here.” 

Malcolm shut his eyes. His father’s words rang in his jumbled mind.  _ You can make your partner beg for you, scream-  _ Malcolm shook his head. He didn't want that. He didn't want to make his partner scream. He didn't want to make anyone scream. He just wanted… he wasn't sure. He just knew that he wasn't as similar to his father as the man claimed. There was a fundamental difference between them; Malcolm couldn't understand why he would want to make someone he loved beg, whereas Martin absolutely thrived on the idea. 

Malcolm figured that he was more like Gil. He would never tell his father, but he desperately wanted to be like Gil. He looked up to the other man. He loved his father despite everything he was; he loved Gil  _ because of _ everything he was. 

“Lt. Arroyo said that he will be here in ten minutes.” Mr. David told him. Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief. Of course Gil would come. Malcolm knew that he could rely on him. He promised that he would always be there for him, and Gil Arroyo doesn't break his promises. 


End file.
